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I’m Holding My Own
by Miles H. Rost
“Mitch, how long have you been living out here for?”
“Well, Sheena threw me out about two and a half years ago, and I didn’t find this place until the fall. I’d probably say almost two years now.”
The man took a long draught of his brew, looked around at Mitch’s “home”.
“And you like it here?”
“Yeah. I go to work for 8 hours, then come home to nature.”
“What about heat?”
“Sleeping bag, and if necessary, a good woman.”
The man took another long draw from his bottle.
“I have what I need right here. I am quite content.”